The knives sang through the air, but did very little good; these clones were cautious, quick to duck out of the way of the swings as soon as they came. It's only once the sandstorm dies down that they started to have trouble--there was only so fast they could dodge, after all, and even with them playing distraction tag with each other, they couldn't evade Kousyxe forever.

One erupted in a muddy spray, then the other not long after; Kousyxe was left dealing with two humming music notes soon enough, swooping and diving like erratic but vicious birds of prey as they came after Kousyxe. Now high overhead and divebombing his face, now peeling away to skim low over the sand and try to knock him off his feet. Pesky little things, those--weak, but insanely maneuverable.